


Show and Tell

by entanglednow



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Captivity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-30
Updated: 2010-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has seen far more of the inside of a dungeon than he ever wanted to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show and Tell

  
Merlin has seen far more of the inside of a dungeon than he ever wanted to. Mostly Camelot's, though he's been in enough other dungeons to know that they're all pretty much the same. He has an overwhelmingly low opinion of them in general and he'd rather not visit any more. Though he suspects that's probably more a desperate hope than a firm vow. They're generally cold, depressing, infested with vermin and the food is vile. Also, they tend to be where you spend a lot of time before you're executed. Which is the main sticking point if you ask Merlin. He's fairly sure that a strong desire to not be executed sits at the heart of his deep desire to avoid dungeons.

This dungeon Merlin's not familiar with. Though the man who's currently chained to the wall inside one of the cells with an irritated expression on his face, and straw in his truly remarkable hair. He's definitely familiar with him. The very man in fact, that Merlin had come to find.

He checks that the guards are sleeping, slumped over each other, chain mail clinking gently on every breath - and that they won't wake - before he slips through the door.

"Merlin," Gwaine says, voice a mixture of surprise, disbelief and just the faintest hint of amusement. "We really have to stop meeting in dungeons like this. People will talk."

Merlin smiles at him through the bars. "People already talk, it's what people do."

"So true," Gwaine squints at him sideways. "You're a long way from home."

"I heard you were a guest of the kingdom." Merlin tries to get a sense of exactly how worrying that had been into his voice.

Gwaine looks briefly surprised, as if he's not quite sure whether that means what he thinks it means. But even while Merlin's watching the expression twitches into something else.

"Oh, a guest indeed. Though there's no room service to speak of and a sad lack of alcohol," Gwaine decides after a moment of careful thought. "Also, the decor leaves a lot to be desired." He gives a slow tug on the manacles he's currently attached to by the wrists, which are in turn attached to the wall.

"Well then maybe you should leave." Merlin can't resist a smile when he lifts the ring of keys he'd stolen from the guards.

Gwaine matches his smile and tips his head back against the wall.

"Funnily enough I was thinking exactly that. Unfortunately these things -" he gives the manacles another tug "- are welded shut. The lack of trust in this kingdom, it's a sad thing."

Merlin unlocks the cell and pushes it open. When he's closer he gets a better look at Gwaine. He notices, in the flickering light from the torches that there are more than bruises. He looks like he was choked at one point. There's also an untidy cut high on his cheekbone that's still bleeding slowly and a bruise from the corner of his eye to his ear is just going dark. Most of it's hidden under his hair. But shaking it off his face seems to have become a habit.

"Gwaine," Merlin says quietly, angrily.

"Me and the king had a disagreement over what I did or didn't know," Gwaine explains. "I may have been drunk at the time so I didn't feel most of it - not that lot anyway. Not so much fun once I was sober."

Merlin can't help tipping Gwaine's head to one side, and even though Gwaine's the one who's been in the dank, miserable dungeon his face is warm, much warmer than Merlin's fingers. Gwaine eyes his hand from very close with half a smile.

"I'm afraid I might be stuck here a while," he says quietly and there's so much underneath that for all that it sounds like a joke.

The chains have to go, and Merlin's already down on his knees in the straw. But Gwaine isn't Arthur. Gwaine's the sort of man who's lived a life that makes you aware of everything. That makes you notice everything. Especially the things people don't want to be noticed. Gwaine's a man who watches, all the time. Even when he's making you believe he's doing nothing of the sort.

Merlin says the words so quietly, barely more than a whisper into Gwaine's hair. But the harsh clank of the chains when they snap open is almost accusingly loud. Gwaine takes a breath that suggests he's had his arms over his head for a long time. He sets one down on the floor and then groans through his teeth and immediately stops putting weight on it.

"I'm going to complain to the chambermaids," he says, where he's now half slumped against Merlin's shoulder. "First thing in the morning."

Merlin very carefully picks up one of Gwaine's hands. There are dark grooves where the metal had dug into the skin around his wrists, deeply and untidily where the edges of the manacles weren't perfectly smooth. Merlin can feel the tacky slide of blood.

"Merlin." Gwaine makes his name sound soft, important. Merlin thinks the pressure probably hurts a little, but Gwaine doesn't try and pull away.

"Wait," Merlin says simply. It's only a few words, but Merlin's never been more aware of how foreign, how condemning they are. Gwaine doesn't try and pull his arms away. He stays still under the magic like he's not afraid of it. Merlin pulls his thumbs back and forth over the newly healed skin. Not quite sure what possessed him to do something so _obvious_. When there had been a chance - just a chance - that Gwaine didn't know already.

"Someone's been keeping secrets," Gwaine murmurs and Merlin feels the words against the skin of his throat. There's warmth and amusement there. But nothing that sounds like horror, nothing that sounds afraid. Merlin had always been so sure that the only thing he'd ever get from telling the truth would be pain. Or if he was very lucky, fear.

Gwaine eases back, lifts an arm and rubs at the skin Merlin had healed with a curious fascination.

"You can't tell anyone." Merlin's voice is a thready thing that barely gets up his throat.

Gwaine stops prodding the tidy and unbroken skin of his wrists.

"Everyone has secrets, Merlin" he says easily. "Things they've done that they're not proud of. Or that they're ashamed of."

Merlin exhales. "I'm not ashamed, I'm just -"

"Uther would kill you," Gwaine says quietly.

Merlin doesn't know what to say to that other than 'yes.' The cut on Gwaine's cheek is still bleeding. Merlin tugs off his neckerchief and tries to stop the trail of red. Gwaine doesn't wince, he sits completely still, completely trusting. It's surprising, after what he's just done.

"We have to wait a few minutes for the guard change outside," Merlin tells him.

Gwaine nods carefully. "Shall I tell you one of my secrets?"

"You don't have to do that," Merlin says with a slow headshake. "I don't expect anything."

Gwaine ignores him, smiles at him through a curve of hair. "I rather enjoyed sleeping in your bed."

Merlin's hand stops because the words are so low, just a trail of breath and honesty. His eyes stray up from Gwaine's cheek and his strangely searching look seems to be half uncertain, Merlin can't quite look away, all surprise and stillness. There's a question somewhere there, but Merlin doesn't know how to answer it when he isn't entirely sure what Gwaine's asking for. But maybe it doesn't matter, or maybe he's given one anyway, because Gwaine's suddenly much closer, hand gentle on his neck like he's afraid he'll startle away. Gwaine is still so warm and Merlin's starting to think it's just him, that Gwaine's just warm where Merlin's cold. It's hard to think when there are fingers drifting into his hair and the steady press of another mouth and no one should be able to kiss like this after a week held captive. No one should be able to kiss like this after being tortured.

Merlin leans in just a little thumb skating across one of the bruises on Gwaine's neck and Gwaine hisses into his mouth - Merlin pulls away, hand sliding free from where it had strayed without his permission into Gwaine's hair.

"Sorry," he says immediately, guilty and suddenly awkward where he hadn't been before.

Gwaine's smiling, and then laughing, soft and tired. But there's something playful there and it only takes a second before Merlin's smiling back.

"You're unbelievable," Merlin says. He picks a few pieces of straw out of Gwaine's hair and Gwaine lets him, laughs again when it flutters down.

"Tell me I can do that again and I promise to be nothing but believable in the future."

Merlin is absolutely not blushing awkwardly like a girl. "Can we talk about it when we're not in a dungeon."

"By all means, though I don't think the king will take kindly to my sudden disappearance from his dungeon."

"By the time he finds out we'll be long gone," Merlin says.

"And not a moment too soon. I've had more than enough of the guards and their idea about the appropriate way to treat guests."

"I know it was more than that," Merlin says, awkward suddenly with knowledge.

Gwaine tips his head to the side and looks at him, expression serious. "You've been protecting a kingdom that would see you dead, a king that would quite happily burn everyone like you. You're a braver man than I, Merlin."

"Don't say that."

"A better one too," Gwaine adds.

Merlin doesn't know what to say to that.

"I don't suppose you could magically get us out of here?" Gwaine asks, eyes amused.

"Magical teleportation is a little beyond me at the moment," Merlin says apologetically, then laughs. It's joyful and reckless, at the ability to be honest with someone, after such a long time. After what feels like forever.

Gwaine huffs disappointment that's half tinged with amusement.

"Ah well, I suppose it wouldn't do to get lazy." He lifts a hand and lets Merlin pull him to his feet.


End file.
